


santa's best helper

by virgohotspot



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy eats Clarke out in the backroom, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Clarke fucks Bellamy with her tits, Co-workers, Co-workers to lovers, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, Jealous Bellamy Blake, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Santa's Elves, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, and they work together!, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgohotspot/pseuds/virgohotspot
Summary: Bellamy picks up a second job as Santa at the local Arkadia Mall to pay for his sister's Christmas gift. It's not so bad, seeing as Santa's helper, Clarke, is extremely helpful. In more ways than one.Or, Bellamy and Clarke are co-workers with benefits throughout the holidays. And then they become friends. And then, they become more.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 238





	santa's best helper

Bellamy ends up as the Santa at Arkadia’s local mall the way he ends up doing pretty much anything – because of Octavia.

It would be entirely incorrect of him to say that Octavia doesn’t ask for much, because she does. If she could ask for a corner of the world on a silver platter, she would, and she’d expect it at her doorstep in three to five business days. But she’s been dealt a crappy hand, just as much as he has, and so whatever her heart desires, he tries his best to give it to her. This is their first Christmas without their Mom and while she was usually not one to be present on holidays when she was alive, he knows it’s harder for his twelve year old sister than it would be for him.

So, when Octavia waltzes up to him the morning after Halloween with a request to start kickboxing classes in the new year, he starts applying for his second job. Maybe, just maybe, he would shut her down if she asked for something stupid, like a pony or a MacBook, but kickbox classes can be useful for a girl her age, especially when he works late at his usual full time job. He could reason it any which way, but his sister asked for this one thing for Christmas, and he intends to give it to her.

But of course, a season of kickbox classes range close to five hundred dollars. That of which he does not have to spend.

Hence, why his weeknights and weekends are spent smackdab in the middle of the crappiest mall in this small town, decked out in a full beard and puffy suit. Honestly, he applied everywhere – fast food restaurants, retail stores, even asked Pike for more hours at the museum – but everyone’s done their hiring and set their hours for the holiday season. The only reason they give him the job as Santa is because their last guy had a heart attack and fully _died_. By hiring someone younger, they eliminate the chance of that happening again.

The Santa gig honestly isn’t as bad as he originally thought it would be. The suit is sweaty and the beard is itchy, but Bellamy’s always had a way with kids. Most of them like him, pouring their heart out with their deepest desires and wishes. The Mom’s take a special liking to him as well, complimenting his array of freckles and bone structure, which he’s not sure how they can see behind the beard, but he doesn’t complain. All things considered, this isn’t the worst place in the world to be during the holidays.

Plus, Bellamy’s got Santa’s _hottest_ helper.

Thursday nights are slow; Arkadia Mall isn’t a hotspot by any means, so usually there’s older kids hanging around after school or those late night shoppers scrambling for their last minute items for the end of the week. Not many kids come by, which means Bellamy gets to marvel at his helper without disruption.

Clarke leans over the podium, lips twirling around the end of a candy cane, flipping through her textbook. The wooden podium is positioned just a couple feet in front of the Santa chair Bellamy perches himself on, meaning he’s got a great view of the back of her. He’s certain the elf costumes have been more giving in the past, but Clarke’s skirt hikes just below the curve of her ass, her long, creamy legs trailing up her body endless.

Bellamy tries not to be _that_ Santa – really, he does. But every couple of minutes, Clarke swivels around, candy cane slicked over her tongue, her blue eyes travelling over him. He’s not sure how anyone can have the desire to tease him in such an unforgiving suit, but Clarke’s seen him out of work plenty of times, and takes solace in that. She smiles coyly at him, and he straightens in his chair.

“ _Santa_ ,” Clarke’s sing-songy voice trickles through the air. Bellamy coughs, zoning back in to where he is. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Switching his attention to before him, a shy blonde girl steps forward with her mother. Bellamy’s mind flickers back to the task at hand, and he smiles warmly. Putting on his best Santa voice, he bellows, “Why, hello. What’s your name?”

Out of his peripheral, Clarke swivels her body around, leaning her back against the podium to take in the view. The candy cane twirls between her fingers as she runs it down her tongue and Bellamy has to swallow thickly just to attempt to push those less than nice thoughts from his brain. He closes his eyes of a second and thinks, _Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa. Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa. Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa._

That does the trick.

He opens his eyes, just as the child positions herself on his lap. “My name is Charlotte.”

“Charlotte,” Bellamy muses with a smile. “That’s a great name. And, what would you like for Christmas?”

Charlotte details her wish of the newest rendition of a dollhouse Bellamy’s seen marketed everywhere. He listens to her drown on about how it’s the prettiest dollhouse she’s ever seen, and how all her Barbies would have so much fun playing in it. An amused smile graces his features, and he recalls when Octavia was so young to want a materialistic object so dearly that she acted like her life depended on it. He promises Charlotte he’ll do his best, never guarantees anything just in case the parents disappoint, and she hops off his lap with a grin.

Clarke hands Charlotte an unwrapped candy cane on the way out, her own candy cane sharped to a spike in her mouth. She twirls it around her tongue, back still pressed against the base of the podium as she stares at Bellamy. “You’ve got a way with the kids, you know?”

Bellamy slouches against the chair, a smirk playing across his face. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

The faintest smirk appears across Clarke’s face, her eyebrows tipping up teasingly at him before she swivels back around. She balances her elbows on the podium as she returns her attention to her textbook. Her hips dip, the short fabric of the fluff aligning the hem of her red, skirt flipping upwards as well. Bellamy swallows, gripping the ends of his chairs until his knuckles turn a gnarly shade of white.

Bellamy glances around the mall, the central area they’re situated in mostly barren. With a huff, he pulls the Santa beard down below his chin and heaves up from the chair. He silently hopes not to scar a few kids and their perception of the holiday season, but the beard fucking itches and it would be much difficult to talk to his helper with it on. Clarke doesn’t even turn to catch a glimpse of him as he waltzes over to the podium. Her eyes refuse to leave the opened pages of the textbook as he leans against the podium, eyebrows tipping up suggestively at her.

“What are you working on?” Bellamy tilts his head, eyes briefly scanning the white pages full of words he’ll never understand.

“It’s for my introductory to bio class,” Clarke explains. She lifts her chin, an exaggerated smile on her face. “Freshman year of University is a bitch.”

“Hm, I can second that.”

“You’re taking bio?”

“No, just remember freshman year being a bitch.”

“What year are you in now?”

“Graduated, just last year.”

Clarke hums softly, glancing at her opened textbook on the podium before her eyes drift back to scan the mall. Out of his peripheral, Bellamy re-confirms that emptiness of it all. Not uncommon for a Thursday near the end of November, and definitely nothing new for the small town of Arkadia. Clarke seems not to believe it, however, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion before she stares back at Bellamy with the flutter of her eyelashes.

“Means you’re fresh to the adult world,” Clarke quips. “That’s got to be stressful.”

_Oh, you’ve got no idea_ , Bellamy almost says. Instead, he fixates on the twinkle in her eye and the devious smile pattering across her lips. She crosses her arms over the podium, balancing her breasts on the base of her arms as she flips the waves of her blonde hair over her shoulder. Bellamy tries not to stare down at her breasts spilling from the top of her uniform, but he can’t help but wonder if she might have received the wrong size.

Bellamy makes a point to lift his eyes and directly stare at hers. The blueness in Clarke’s eyes shimmer with mischief, all to naughty for one of Santa’s helpers. A smirk slides across his features, as he leans a little closer to Clarke, his nose just inches away from brushing her own.

“You seem to be a lot more stressed out than me.” Bellamy whispers hotly. “Maybe I can help you out with that.”

A snarky remark is sure to form on Clarke’s lips, but Bellamy can pinpoint the exact moment she decides against saying it. The relief in her eyes translates to the dip in her smirk, replaced by a giddy, little smile as she straightens herself. She turns her back to him, making a show of bending over to one of the shelves on the podium. Just as quick as she leans down, she hops right back up, propping up the _Santa Will Be Back From the North Pole Shortly!_ sign and slamming her textbook shut.

* * *

The backroom is really just a changeroom for Santa and the elves. It’s a tiny locker space closed off towards the bathrooms in the mall, and can really only fit half a dozen people, and that’s if they all squeezed together. Luckily, it’s only ever him and Clarke.

Bellamy could not be more grateful for that in this very moment, as he slams Clarke into the lockers and gets to his knees.

Clarke already has her hands in his hair, already slicked with sweat from the God forsaken Santa hat he’s discarded on the floor. Along with his beard, and the top of his suit, that lay somewhere on this changeroom. He makes a mental note to wash them as soon as he gets home, and pretend those items weren’t on the floor as he finishes the rest of his shift. Right now, all he can focus on his the callouses on his hands basking in the softness of Clarke’s long, creamy legs.

Bellamy trails his lips up the inside of Clarke’s thigh, switching between a motion of teeth and tongue as he etches closer to her center. Clarke tries her best to be quiet, but he can hear the heaviness of her breath increase the closer his mouth gets to her core. He tears his hand away from her skin to hold up the ends of her skirt, which he doesn’t really need to do to get a full view of her panties, but does anyways.

“Ah, naughty girl.” Bellamy marvels at the red lace panties modeled before him. He flickers his gaze up to her, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “These aren’t what Santa’s helper should be wearing.”

Clarke swallows, trying to jerk her hips towards him. He splays one palm against her hips, pinning her in place against the lockers. His eyes flash faux anger, a snarl drawling on his lips as he nips at her inner thigh. A moan escapes from Clarke’s lips before she can reign it in, and the smirk re-appears on Bellamy’s lips.

“They’re for you,” Clarke whines. “All for you.”

Bellamy’s cock stirs in his pants. He removes his palm from her hip, ensuring one hand keeps the skirt up while his other fingers trace the lace of her panties. “All for me, huh?” He slicks his fingers in between her thighs, nudging the barely there fabric aside and coating his hand along her wetness. “This all for me, too?”

Clarke nods hurriedly, staring down at him with all the anticipation in the world. “Uh-huh.”

He doesn’t wait any longer, pushing a finger inside of her slowly. Bellamy doesn’t break eye contact as Clarke mewls for him, allowing her to adjust to the thickness of one of his fingers before he adds another. Clarke’s mouth falls open for the second, and she claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the moan. Bellamy grins wolfishly, quickening the pace of his fingers inside her as he presses a kiss to her clit over the fabric of her panties.

Clarke’s pussy is soft, delicate, almost like he’s sure she’s not. His pace is far from relentless, but he works his fingers inside of her intricately, curling them in the exact right places to earn a couple of prized yelps from her. The sounds she makes come in tiny squeaks or suppressed moans, all high pitched and so full of vibrato that is resonates through her body. Bellamy can feel the sounds travel to her cunt, and that drives him all the more crazy.

Bellamy leans forward, nudging aside her panties with the tip of his nose as he slows down his fingers working inside of her. Clarke whines at the decrease in pace, but all is forgiven when Bellamy licks a long stripe from the base of her to her clit. She gasps out loudly, the hand clasped around her mouth falling to her side, crashing loudly against the metal lockers she’s propped up against. It doesn’t deter him, however, Bellamy rapidly flicks his tongue against her clit as she writhes before him.

“Good girl,” Bellamy murmurs through the praise, tongue still concentrating on her clit. “You don’t want to be so naughty for me, do you?”

“I want to be good,” Clarke cries out. “I want to be so good for you.”

Bellamy grunts into her pussy, the extra vibration sending a shiver up Clarke’s spine. He hooks his fingers inside her firmly, ensuring she does little to squirm. “How long have you been thinking about this, naughty girl?”

“Too long,” Clarke breathes.

He slows his tongue against her clit in response. “Not a good answer.”

“Since we were hired,” Clarke blurts out, sighing in relief when Bellamy resumes his pace. “Since I caught you changing into that – _fuck_ – that fucking suit.”

Bellamy recalls fondly. The start of the holiday season had brought them into work on an extra snowy day, and of course his car hadn’t started promptly. He hurried into work two minutes before his shift began, and was scrambling to put on his suit. He’d been only wearing the attire he has on presently – the pants, free of a shirt or any accessories – when Clarke stumbled in, also late. He hadn’t missed the way her eyes caught his chest, or the way she stammered out a greeting when he introduced himself.

“I didn’t stay to see you change.” Bellamy notes, mouth still working against her pussy. “Wish I had. Wish I’d seen this pretty pussy of yours sooner.”

The fabric of her panties scratches against his cheek, but there’s not really any part of Bellamy that cares. She tastes so good, looks so good, feels so fucking good around his fingers. He can’t wait to bury his cock inside of her, have her screaming his name while her tits bounce in that little getup of hers. It makes his cock painfully hard, and he comes to the conclusion that both of them have been building this up for far too long.

Bellamy matches the intensity of his fingers fucking inside of her to the rhythm of his tongue, Clarke bucking her hips wildly to capture every essence of his touch. He can feel her walls closing around his fingers, but as his eyes flick up to check on how she is, her eyes are scrunched up, shoulders tensed with it.

“You alright?” Bellamy inquires.

“I am,” Clarke nods. “I am, I’m just – _fuck_.”

“Look at me,” Bellamy urges. She doesn’t oblige, and he detaches his mouth from her cunt, allowing her lace panties to fall over her clit, and nearly halts his fingers. “Look at me.”

At the lack of contact, Clarke listens. Her eyes flutter, half-open and caught in a bit of a daze. She’s clearly worked up. Bellamy balances his chin on her mound, pulling his fingers in and out of her at a painfully slow rate.

“I’m going to take care of my good girl.” Bellamy promises. He feels Clarke clench on his fingers. “Think you can be a good girl and come for me?”

Clarke only nods in response.

“I need to hear you, pretty girl.”

The nickname must do something to hear, because he sees her swallow down a moan. “I’m going to come for you.”

Bellamy takes that in stride, repeating the process of pushing her panties aside with his nose and diving back in to mouth at her. His pace resumes rather quickly, and she’s writhing beneath him, yelping out carelessly within seconds. This time, he keeps his eyes on her, makes sure he’s making her feel as good as he intends to. She maintains her own eye contact with him, and he finds himself captured by the blue in her eyes, so strong and poignant against her pale skin and blonde locks.

Clarke only tears her gaze from him when she comes. She throws her head back against the lockers, clamping her hand over her mouth as she comes. He feels it, rides her through it. His fingers slow, and he circles her clit with his tongue, feeling the aftershocks in his mouth and on his hand. It’s as heavenly of a sight as it is a feeling, sweat beading from Clarke’s temple and mouth open in the most perfect “O” shape.

Drawing his fingers out of her, Bellamy licks them clean. Her eyes find his then, as Bellamy slicks his fingers out of his mouth, and she’s left breathless. He admires the way her chest heaves up and down, the sight of her tits glistening and bouncing before him re-igniting all sense of urgency within him. Clarke’s eyes follow him as he shoots up, reaching beside her head to undo his locker combination.

“Are you leaving?” Clarke breathes, and Bellamy smirks at the fear in her voice.

Bellamy presses a quick kiss to the side of her mouth, noting how she tries to capture all of his lips, just to catch a taste of herself on his skin. He leans his hand down, rubbing her clit over her soaked panties as he uses his free limb to open his locker and fish for his wallet.

“Of course not, pretty girl.” Bellamy assures her.

Bellamy feels her shiver, as he struggles to open the zipper of his wallet with one hand. He manages, retrieving a condom from one of the sleeves before eagerly slamming his locker shut. Bringing the condom wrapper to his mouth, he bites off the sliver, spitting it out onto the ground. He has to take his hand off her, but tries to do so quickly, retrieving the latex from its wrapper.

Clarke catches his wrist. “Wait. You don’t want me to go down on you?”

“No time.” Bellamy mutters with a shrug. He may not be so eager about this job, but he’s intent on keeping it. But he admires her persistence, so he takes a hold of her hand, pulling her off the lockers and closer to him. “But you can help me with my pants, just like the good little helper you are.”

Clarke’s eyes shimmer with excitement, her hands instantly going to his best buckle. She unclasps his belt, slicking it through the loop and throwing it elsewhere, but she tugs down his pants. His cock strains against his boxers, bulging out proudly for her, and Bellamy swears he can see her mouth water. He makes a mental note to put that to use another day.

Her hand goes to smoothen over his bulge, and he closes his eyes as a moan escapes him. Clarke’s hand tightens around the base of him, slowly working him up and down. She cups his balls in her hand firmly, her touch like silk against him even with the fabric of his boxers in the way. He’s not sure how much more he can take of her teasing, grabbing her wrist and pining it behind her back as he pushes her tits against the locker in one fluid motion.

“Fuck, your dick is so big.” Clarke stammers out. “I want all of it.”

“Don’t make demands, pretty girl.” Bellamy warns her. “Good girls ask nicely.”

“Can you please fuck me?” Clarke whines, the faux timid stature in her voice making him grunt. “Please, fuck me.”

Bellamy pulls down his boxers, his cock springing free without restraint. He slicks the condom on without trouble, before aligning his cock with her cunt. He keeps one hand on her hip and one curled around her hair as he gently pushes inside of her.

“Anything for my good girl,” Bellamy growls in her ear.

Clarke moans as he etches further inside her. Bellamy slowly pulls his cock in and out of her, her tiny, little moans letting him know that she has to get used to his size. He doesn’t mind, loves the feeling of her cunt slowly engulfing all of him before he drives himself back inside her. When she quiets a bit at his pace, that’s when he speeds up, slamming in and out of her. He guides her with his hand on her hip and the other in her hair, yanking at both of them to get her as close to him as possible.

With each thrust, Clarke yelps, but she’s eager, slamming back into him with the same intensity. He loves the way she works for it, bouncing on his cock with such vigor and dedication, just like the good girl she is. She encases his cock with ease, takes all of him so eagerly.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Bellamy sighs, his cock nearly bursting with her hold on him. He bites down on her earlobe, “You’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.”

Clarke leans her head against his shoulder as his hand comes up to clasp at the base of her throat. Bellamy keeps his thrusts short and concise, until he draws out a long one every once in a while, just to slam back into her. She brings her hand back to intertwine with his curls, egging him on as his pace builds up. He can feel himself getting close, brings his hand down from her hip to her cunt to circle her clit in response.

“Almost there, pretty girl.” Bellamy whispers in her ear. “Think you can come before I do?”

Clarke nods hurriedly. “Yes, _yes_ , just keep doing _that_.”

Bellamy does, circling her clit with quickness and precision. Her body convulses, head falling forward against the metal of the lockers. He takes his hand from the base of her throat to the back of her head. He holds her in place, his cock sliding in and out of her with ease as he keeps the steady motions on her clit. It’s not long before she’s tumbling over the edge, and he allows himself to quicken the pace, building himself up so he can do the same.

Clarke comes with a cry, he follows suit with a hearty groan. She slams her palms against the lockers, trying to hold herself up as Bellamy draws out of her. He peels off the condom, throwing it in the trashcan and taking a moment to breathe. Clarke seems to need more time than he does, however, as she slumps against the lockers with heavy breaths.

He smirks, gathering up all of his clothes before he puts on his boxers. Bellamy keeps an eye on her, and when she eventually turns back around to face him, her face is beat red, hair slicked to her forehead and eyes half-lidded. He pulls on his pants, and buckles his belt in place, just staring at her with a smug expression etched into his features.

“Oh, shut up.” Clarke bites out a laugh.

“I didn’t say anything.” Bellamy smirks. He throws on his tank top. “You should probably get dressed, though. We’ve been in here for way too long.”

Bellamy assumes Clarke is going to start getting ready as he pulls the Santa suit back over his body. But instead, she turns to her locker, dialing in the combination and fishing out her jacket and purse. She throws her trench coat over her shoulders, the long, beige fabric perfectly shielding her reddened skin and elf suit. She flicks her hair out of the collar and positions her purse over her shoulder.

“Actually, I have an exam in the morning.” Clarke informs him. “I’m going to head out early.”

He whips his head around to her, eyebrows furrowing together. “You talk to Wick about this?”

Wick, their boss, who’s granted, barely around, but their superior nonetheless. Up until this very moment, Bellamy had no idea that she was leaving early. He didn’t even know that it was an option to do so.

“You going to rat me out?” Clarke quirks her eyebrows up. “There’s only an hour and a half left until the mall closes, and it’s a Thursday night. You’ll be fine without me.”

Clarke skips over to him, mind made up, sliding her hand over his shoulder as she plants a kiss on his cheek. She lingers, hand travelling down his chest and to his crotch in a painfully slow motion. She works him up again in her hand through his pants, fingers dancing across his bulge with such a delicate touch, Bellamy loses his breath. He forces himself to look at her, trying his best to keep a straight face, but the smirk on her lips tells him he’s failed.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Clarke reassures him. Her teeth grazes his earlobe for just a moment, before she pulls away from him and begins sauntering out the door. She calls out to him over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Santa.”

Bellamy watches her disappear out the door, the click of pumps echoing down the hall. He shakes his head, wanting desperately to be irritated, but the bulge in his pants is more of a reminder of her touch than a bother. With a huff, Bellamy straps the beard to his chin, and gives himself a moment to think.

_Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa_. _Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa. Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa_.

* * *

In all fairness, Clarke does make it up to him.

Fridays are always their busiest days. People are preparing for the weekend, don’t have work or school the next day, all that fun stuff. While Arkadia Mall is not a hotspot, it’s kind of the only place in town to do anything other than grocery shop, so Fridays are full of families. There’s not lines down the hall, but every time one kid leaves, another shows up. It’s hard for Bellamy to put on a bright and cheery face when everyone’s screaming and making his leg cramp up.

Clarke tries her best to help, while staying within the guidelines of her elf career. She makes sure Bellamy gets his breaks – albeit, she doesn’t go with him – and that each child and their parent are behaving. He’s grateful for her help, even if he’s still the slightest bit annoyed at her dipping out early the day before. Not that anything exciting happened, but he likes this job better in her company.

By the end of his shift, all Bellamy wants to do is go home and collapse on his bed. He throws his beard into the back of his locker, and the Santa hat with it, huffing out in frustration. He barely hears the click of Clarke’s heels as she trots inside the backroom. He doesn’t even spare a glance at her, not even when he hears a thump smack against the floor.

The only time he pays Clarke any attention is when she clears her throat, clearly asking for it. Bellamy sighs, swiveling around to look at her. “I’d ask how your exam went, but I really don’t care–”

Half of Clarke’s elf suit is discarded. Her heels and skirt remain on her body, but her top and bra proudly lays on the ground, her tits standing proudly for him. Bellamy’s nothing less than flustered, and his jaw has hit the floor before he can reign it in. He’s had girlfriends, those who he’d been with for a while, be this bold with him, but never someone he’s just met – never a co-worker he fucked senselessly once. Not that he’s complaining. Clarke’s tits are unearthly.

They’re so perfectly round, hanging off her chest in perfect form, nipples already erect. Bellamy forces himself to put on a façade of calmness, clearing his throat to bring some moisture back into it. Clarke stands still before him, and he wonders if he’s supposed to make the next move. She seems to have a pretty good idea of what’s going on here, although he’s too stunned to think anything through right now.

“I told you I’d make it up to you.” Clarke states, like it’s something he should have double checked with her. She saunters up to him, her heels clicking as she walks. This time, it’s him backed into the locker. Her hand splays against the middle of his chest, fingers tapping against his collarbones. “And a good girl always keeps her promises.”

Clarke tips her chin upwards, brushing her lips against his. It’s their first real kiss. He had kissed plenty of places on her body yesterday, but not her lips. In this very moment, he’s not sure why, because everything about them are soft and inviting, her tongue welcoming him to all the possibilities he can discover in her. Clarke’s tongue traces Bellamy’s bottom lip, and he slips his own into her mouth. While the kiss begins slow, the heat increases by the second, Clarke grabbing a fistful of his tank top and bringing him even closer.

Bellamy wraps his arms around her lower back, swiveling her around so that she slams against the lockers. Clarke grins into his lips before he tears them away to trail down her neck. He patterns the skin on her neck, sucking and biting down hard as he palms her breasts. They fill up his hands, and Bellamy moans into the juncture between her neck and shoulder. He sucks down hard, intending to leave a prominent hickey, a constant reminder of what a good girl she is for him.

“Oh, fuck, Bellamy,” Clarke’s hands find the back of his head. He grips her tits tighter, twirling her nipples in between his fingers and she cries out. “Just like that.”

He’s got to get his mouth on her. Bellamy detaches himself from her neck to press a hard kiss to her lips. Before she can even return the gesture, Bellamy’s head dips, taking a mouthful of her tit in between his lips. She moans out in a combination of surprise and pleasure, that morphs into a sigh of utter bliss. One hand focuses on palming her tit while he twirls his tongue around the nipple of the other one, completely content giving her breasts the utmost attention they deserve.

Bellamy’s aware she’s supposed to be making it up to _him_. But he’s in no greater place of pleasure than being in between her tits. He laves them up nicely, coating them with his saliva. He flattens his tongue against her nipple before suckling gently, ensuring to repeat the process on the other one. She writhes and moans out beneath him, desperate to get some friction somewhere. He inserts his leg in between her thighs in response, grinning into her tits as she instantly grinds down on him.

“Hey,” Clarke’s soft voice seeps through his hears. He doesn’t tear his mouth away from her nipple, but he looks up to confirm he heard her. Clarke smiles down at him. “My turn to make you feel good.”

He feels pretty fucking good right now, but before he can voice this, Clarke pulls him off of her. Bellamy lets go of her tit with a pop, barely able to straighten himself out before she sinks to her knees and begins unbuckling his belt. His pants fall to the floor, along with his belt, and Clarke takes her time marveling over his cock through his boxers. She runs her hand up his shaft and down in painfully slow motions, working up his already hard cock.

“Good girls don’t tease,” Bellamy growls.

“Naughty ones do.” Clarke smirks.

Bellamy threatens to explode right there.

Thankfully, Clarke doesn’t waste any more time, though. She pulls down his boxers and allows his cock to spring free. Instantly, she holds the base of him, working Bellamy up and down in her hand as she mouths at his balls. Bellamy throws his head back with a groan, feeling her tongue explore every inch of him, slowly travelling up the shaft of his cock before swirling around the tip. He thinks this is it, her mouth about to engulf his cock, when her hands and lips suddenly disappear.

Clarke nudges him against the bench in the middle of the room, and Bellamy falls flat on his ass onto the wood. Before he can open his mouth is dismay, Clarke positions herself in between his legs, before shoveling her tits onto his cock. Bellamy groans, curling his fingers around the bench as Clarke’s tits bounce up and down his dick.

“Oh, fuck, pretty girl.” Bellamy coos. “Look at you. Look at those _fucking tits_.”

“You like that, baby?” Clarke batts her eyelashes at him, yet never misses a beat. “Am I being good for you?”

Bellamy almost completely misses the nickname. It’s the first time Clarke’s called him anything other than Bellamy or Santa, and fuck, he much prefers it. He nearly only groans out in response, but manages to find the strength to fist his hand into her hair, leaning forward for a heated kiss. She moans into his lips before he leans back, marveling at the sight that is Clarke and her fucking amazing tits.

“So good,” Bellamy breathes. “So _fucking good_.”

Just as he reaches his peak, preparing to come all over her chest, Clarke switches her methods. Her tits drop back to its natural resting position, just as her mouth welcomes his cock. This time, the teasing is left to minimal, her tongue swirling around his cock rapidly, yet with a precise technique. He’s nearly jerking up into her mouth, doesn’t even feel the need to hold her head. Clarke knows exactly what she’s doing to please him, and knows exactly how to get him where he needs to be.

Bellamy makes sure to prepare her. “I’m going to come, pretty girl. You want me to come in your mouth?”

Clarke doesn’t falter, simply nodding her head and humming in agreement. Bellamy lets himself relax, content with Clarke bobbing up and down his cock. She speeds up to get him there, not that she needs to, because seconds later, he’s anchoring himself into her mouth. Clarke does a good job of swallowing, mere remnants of come seeping past her lips.

It’s a gorgeous sight, Clarke on her knees before him with his cum coating her lips. He leans back, out of breath, but keeping her eyes on her, trying to steady himself as she swallows down every last bit of him that she can. So beside herself, wrapped up in her own little fantasy of his pleasure that he’s fearful she’s neglected her own. He slouches over the couch, bringing his mouth to hers, kissing away the come that’s left on her skin.

“You were such a good girl,” Bellamy praises her. Clarke hums against his lips as he sneaks in another kiss. He likes kissing her. “Let me get my mouth on you now, will you?”

Instead of the eager nod he was expecting, Clarke shakes her head, standing to her feet. “I can’t stay. Have to catch the bus.”

“I’ll make it quick,” Bellamy promises, as she’s already gathering her clothing.

Clarke merely ignores him, throwing on her clothes and collecting her stuff so quickly, Bellamy hasn’t even recovered from the blowjob before she’s nearly out the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And suddenly, Bellamy’s eager to come to work every day.

* * *

Bellamy’s holiday season is all the merrier with Clarke in it.

It becomes a daily thing, or a whenever-they’re-at-work thing. Breaks spent locked in the backroom on empty nights, or spending time afterhours just to get their hands on one another. He learns her body, knows how to draw out her orgasm or make her come in seconds, and she has a habit of using her mouth – verbally and physically – to work him up in the best of ways. It’s easy, it’s simple, they’re both always there. It’s nice.

Bellamy learns quickly that it’s a relief type of arrangement for them both. His two jobs and Octavia make him want to pull his hair out, and Clarke’s got an exam every other week. They’re at the mall nearly every single day of the week, and while Bellamy doesn’t mind if she sees anybody else, they haven’t really talked about it. He’s only seeing her, only has time to see her, and honestly, she’s a better companion than most.

Sometimes, Bellamy catches her eye when it’s quiet, or in between kids, a playful smirk growing across his face. She always gives him an eyeroll in reply – something he makes sure to reprimand her for later – before returning to her textbook, but the glimmer in her smile is why he does it. He’ll blame the feeling on the inclination he has to rile her up.

And for now, in the bliss of the holiday season, that’s all this is. Helping each other out in their most dire times of need.

* * *

Clarke has a subtle habit of leaving work early. It’s never on busy days, but usually when the night is quiet and she has somewhere more important to be. Bellamy gets it, he was a University student not too long ago. He can handle the random popup in kids every once in a while, they’re really only there to see him, anyways.

It’s a Friday night, however, and there’s a lineup of kids going around the Santa center. It’s the first week of December, so everyone’s remembered it’s Christmas, even though he’s been doing this job for weeks. They barely even have time to take a break, there’s a new kid on his lap every five seconds. He doesn’t mind hearing them chatter, finds out what toys are popular, but Clarke becomes antsier by the second. Every time she even tries to pull out her textbook, someone walks up to her and demands to be next in line.

By the end of the night, the last kid leaves well after the Santa center is supposed to be closed. His Karen of a mother had insisted, even though she’d got there a minute after nine, when they were supposed to pack up. And Clarke had just offered her the cheeriest of smiles, and allowed her kid through. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her take a couple sneak peaks at her textbook, but the frown on her lips and crease lines in her brow told him this was less than satisfactory.

“Clarke, go.” Bellamy tells her once the kid leaves. “I’ll pack up for the night.”

Clarke glances at the Santa center, basically a mess because of all the kids. There’s decorations torn off the plastic fence, and a chaotic pile of litter scattered around the faux line. Usually, they upkeep throughout the night, but there was no opportunity for that today. She stares back at him, gnawing at her bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Bellamy assures her. He makes a mental note to text Octavia he’s going to be late, and smiles warmly. “You can make it up to me another day.”

Clarke’s eyes twinkle, and she leans in and pecks his cheek. “You’re the best. I’ll definitely make it up to you, I promise.”

With that, Clarke scurries off towards the backroom. Bellamy catches her run out less than a minute later, blowing an exaggerated kiss in his direction before she hurries towards the exit. He smiles to himself, watching as her blonde locks bounce behind her, her heels clicking in the distance before she disappears out the door. He shoves a pile of gum wrappers – that are likely from parents – into the trash and hopes whatever she has planned, she makes on time.

Bellamy doesn’t get out too late – maybe half an hour after close. He assures Octavia he’ll be home in fifteen minutes, and she replies that she’s already in bed. Although, that definitely doesn’t mean she’s asleep, but whatever, it’s a Friday night. He doesn’t expect her to be in bed before ten.

The rush of cool winter air hits him in the face, and Bellamy tugs down his beanie over his ears in response. It’s supposed to snow sometime tonight, accumulating with the debris already cemented on the ground. Bellamy’s just grateful he doesn’t have to shovel fresh snow off his car before his drive home.

Bellamy’s about to step off the sidewalk to head towards the parking lot, when a whiff of smoke assaults his nose. He glances over his shoulder, intending to take a glimpse of the smoker out of sheer curiosity, but finds himself fixated on her when he sees it’s Clarke, leaning up against the wall. She’s staring out at the road, a cigarette lit between her fingers. He pauses as she takes one, long drag before blowing out a puff of smoke, switching her gaze in his direction.

He lifts his eyebrows curiously. “This is what I let you go early for?”

“I missed the bus,” Clarke frowns. “The next one isn’t for another hour. I’d go back inside to study, but the mall is closed. And I can’t take out my textbook here without my fingers falling off.”

Bellamy shifts his weight from one foot the other. He glances back at the parking lot, hyper aware he’s already left Octavia home alone for a couple hours today, but staring back at Clarke, her nose turning red and a cold shiver resonating off her body, he can’t help but feel a wave of guilt. She hasn’t asked for anything, except maybe a couple of things when they’re in the backroom together, and it would be shitty of him to just leave. Granted, he doesn’t know her very well, but damn, he likes to pride himself on being a good guy _sometimes_.

With a heavy sigh, Bellamy steps towards her, taking the cigarette from her fingers. He takes a drag of it himself, a mere way of relief that he couldn’t get by fucking her today. Clarke watches him curiously, as if she’s as unsure about where this is going as he is. Her icy blue eyes lock with his dark ones, no longer light and teasing like the millions of times he’s gazed at her. Bellamy holds the cigarette back out to her, and she takes another drag, only breaking eye contact with him once to blow the smoke in the opposite direction.

Bellamy smirks. _How courteous of her_. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

“I live near the Polis University campus, all the way outside of town.” Clarke shakes her head.

The smirk drops from Bellamy’s face, replaced by a sheepish smile. It’s over a thirty minute drive, meaning it would take him an hour to get back home to Octavia. It would be close to eleven.

Clarke catches the guilt resonating over his features and offers him an easy smile. “It’s alright. I’ll study on the bus when it comes.”

“It’s not coming for another hour,” Bellamy points out. “Do you have an exam tomorrow?”

She sighs, but nods. “At seven.”

“In the morning?”

“Yup. Right before I’m back here.” 

Bellamy bites down on his lip, teeth grazing against his chapped skin, none of which is helped by the freezing cold they’re standing in the midst of. He studies Clarke, her seemingly relaxed features horribly taken over by the stress that riddles through her. Bellamy’s no stranger to masking being overworked; he’s done it since Octavia was born. And usually, he’d only be able to help Clarke in one very, specific way involving his penis. That’s all he’s ever cared to offer.

But he can’t help but think about himself in those University days, just a couple of years ago. When their mother was still alive and well, no doubt. Bellamy waiting for the bus in the freak cold, or basically killing himself to try and get home to Octavia before supper, all the way from Arkadia University on the other side of town. He’s got no idea what else Clarke’s got going on in her life, and normally he wouldn’t care to ask. But it’s the holidays, and she’s sucked his dick, and he’ll feel like an ass for leaving her out here for another hour.

“Stay with me tonight,” Bellamy says, as nonchalantly as he can possibly muster.

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “No offense, Santa, but I don’t know you that well–”

“You know me well enough to let me fuck you.”

“Do you invite all the people you fuck over for a sleepover?”

“Only when they’re as good as you.”

Bellamy’s not sure if it’s the cold weather or a blush that rises to Clarke’s cheeks, but he does catch the ends of her lips tip up in a smile. It brings one to his own features, especially as Clarke’s curious eyes light up once again, erasing the darkness he saw just moments earlier. His chest fills with an undeniable sense of warmth, and he quickly blames it on the cigarette smoke that must have just entered his lungs.

“I have a twelve year old sister to get home to,” Bellamy clears his throat. “So, I’d appreciate a yes or no as quickly as you can.”

Clarke, like the good girl she is, lifts herself up from the wall. She turns back to the brick, pushing the bud of her cigarette against it before discarding it in the snow and smashing it with her heel. She steps forward, a coy smile on her face.

“Lead the way.”

The drive to Bellamy’s place is only fifteen minutes from the mall. He tells Clarke this, once she’s buckled up her seatbelt, and starts up the car promptly. Out of his peripheral, he can see her wheels turning, tongue poking out of her cheek in concentration – a signature look of hers. He smiles to himself, but focuses on the road, just as light snow starts up.

He’s just turned on the windshield wipers when he feels Clarke’s hand slick over the crotch in his slacks. Bellamy grunts, nearly steering off the side of the road as she slowly glides her hand up and down his shaft. Thankfully, he comes to a red light rather soon, gets the opportunity to clamp his hand down on her wrist and pause her motions.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bellamy hisses.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Clarke bats her eyelashes innocently, and his dick hardens.

“Fuck, Clarke. I’m driving.”

“Leave it to me. _Please_ , baby.”

That nickname’s never really done anything for him before. Plenty of people have said it to him, ranging from one night stands to girlfriends, but none of them come out as melodic as when Clarke does it. And she knows that, knows that Bellamy basically folds in her hand whenever the words come out of her mouth.

A mischievous, little smirk dances across Clarke’s lips. “I want to make you feel good.”

The light turns green, reflecting off the dashboard of his car. Bellamy’s certain there’s cars behind them, eagerly waiting to go home like he is. But his eyes are glued to Clarke, the twinkle in her eye and the promises on her lips.

A car honks behind them, and Bellamy presses a hard, quick kiss to Clarke’s kiss. He can taste the cigarette on her lips. “You’re such a good girl.”

Bellamy does his best to focus on the road. Maintain the speed limit, drive in the correct lane, check his mirrors. Even as Clarke unbuckles his pants, and fishes out his cock, stroking him up and down in precise motions, he keeps his gaze intent on the road. It’s almost painful to do so, knowing he loves nothing more than staring at Clarke as she works on his cock, but he’d prefer to get them back to his place _alive_. Having come is an added bonus.

When the warmth of Clarke’s lips find his tip, Bellamy nearly swerves the car. She hums in admiration, sending vibrations down his cock. He grips one hand on the steering wheel and the other fists her hair, guiding her up and down his cock in quick motions. She keeps up, tongue swirling around his shaft with precision before she sloppily licks at his tip, all while Bellamy’s pushing her up and down and managing to drive them both home.

“Come on, pretty girl, we’re home in two minutes.” Bellamy whispers, low and hot, as if they’re in that backroom instead of the privacy of his car. “You want me to come in your pretty, little mouth?”

Clarke moans against his cock in reply. He has to take his hand away from the back of her hand to make a turn into his neighborhood, but she has no trouble keeping up the pace herself. She bobs up and down his cock more rapidly this time, even as Bellamy’s making multiple turns. He can see his townhouse, up on the edge of the street, just as he feels himself building up for her.

Somehow, by some holiday miracle, Bellamy slides into his driveway without a car accident. He takes the back of Clarke’s head once more, hopes that there’s no neighbors keeping an eye out for him, and shoves her up and down on his cock. She gags, but takes him without complaint, and soon, he’s shooting hot ropes of cum into her mouth.

His head falls back against the cushion of the driver’s seat, his eyes close in a fuzzy daze, cock still slicked with Clarke’s saliva. Bellamy brings himself to press his cheek against the cushion, gazing at Clarke as she swallows without complaint. She wipes the corner of her lips with her fingers, gazing at him with a proud smirk as they sit in his car, outside of his house.

All is silent, Bellamy just basking in pure amazement of the woman in his passenger seat, the night sky falling over them. The flicker of Christmas lights comes on, and Bellamy stares straight ahead in alarm. Octavia had insisted to put him lights this year, although they’d never done that before. And now, she must have noticed his car in the driveway, because she’s just made a point to turn them on.

“My sister can’t know you’re here,” Bellamy tells her, still out of breath from moments before. “Think you can be extra quiet for me?”

Clarke nods. “I can do that.”

“Good girl.”

* * *

The light to Octavia’s room is on, Bellamy discovers this when he can’t find her anywhere on the lower level. He tiptoes Clarke up to his room, lays out a couple extra sweaters for her to choose from and leaves her there while he goes to say goodnight to Octavia. He knocks lightly on her door, and isn’t greeted by an answer. Biting down on his lip, he knocks a little harder. He knows she’s awake, someone turned the Christmas lights on.

“What?” Octavia’s voice belts through the door.

Bellamy sighs in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. “Can I come in?”

“Are you in that stupid Santa suit?”

“I’m not.”

“Then no.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, knocking more harshly on the door. He hears Octavia groan, before a bit of shuffling behind the door. There’s a click, the door unlocking, before Octavia’s footsteps trot further away. He takes that as a sign of entry, twisting the door handle and peeking into his sister’s room, just as she crawls back into her bed.

Octavia glares at him, nestled under the covers, back propped up against the headboard and arms crossed firmly. “You’re late.”

Bellamy steps inside, closing the door behind him. “I texted you.”

“You said you were going to be _a bit_ late.” Octavia points out. She uncrosses her arms to point at her digital clock on her dresser; 10:23pm. “This is over an hour late.”

He can see the worry masked under her frustration, and softens. Octavia settles back in her bed, twisting the duvet covers over herself to shield herself from her brother’s gaze. Bellamy frowns, making his way over to Octavia’s bed. She must feel the dip in the mattress as he settles down at the foot of the bed, but she makes no move to acknowledge him.

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy apologizes, his voice soft. “I should have been more specific when I texted you. Were you scared?”

“ _No_ ,” Octavia bites out bitterly. Bellamy almost smirks, but he reigns it in as Octavia twists her body around to face him. She pouts, in an attempt to appear angry. “I just didn’t know where you were.”

“At work. I’m always at work, Octavia. So I can put food on the table, and so I can make sure you get into that kickboxing class–”

Octavia straightens in her bed. “I don’t need it. I’m sorry, big brother. I’m overworking you–”

“No, Octavia, you’re not,” Bellamy sighs, resting his hand on her knee. “The kickboxing class will be good for you.”

His sister’s eyes fill with tears. Bellamy’s heart crackles a bit inside his chest. He hates that he may be picking up similar habits as his mother; working multiple jobs, albeit to provide for them, but then spending her nights out at the bar. He doesn’t do the latter, but he did waste some time with Clarke; cleaning up for the two of them, wasting time in the parking lot, fucking her after their shifts have ended, meaning he’s home a lot less. Guilt settles into Bellamy’s chest, and he pulls Octavia in for a hug.

“I know this Christmas is a little different,” Bellamy whispers, resting his head on his sister’s shoulder. “But I promise, I’m going to do better. I’ll be done with this Santa shit in a couple weeks, and then I’ll just be at the museum.” He pulls away as Octavia hastily wipes under his eyes. “I promise, O. Okay?”

Octavia nods hurriedly, taking a deep sigh. “Okay. Thanks, Bell. I know I don’t say it enough.”

“You don’t.”

“Shut up.”

Bellamy laughs, as Octavia sinks back into her bed. He leans in and presses a kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, O.”

His sister mumbles a goodnight to Bellamy before he stands from the bed. He makes sure to turn off the light and close the door behind him as he leaves, a heavy sigh escaping his lips when he hears the click shut. He slumps against the wall beside Octavia’s room, scrubbing his hand over his face in exasperation, the stress that alleviated only moments ago returning in a flash.

There’s only a couple of more weeks until Christmas. And then, he can go back to only working nine to five at the museum, and rid of this Santa suit, have more time to spend with his sister. All he has to do is get through the holidays. _Just a couple more weeks._

Bellamy heaves himself up from the wall, making his way back to his room. He twists the door handle, revealing Clarke, awkwardly shifting in the middle of the room. She’s rid of her uniform, coat and purse draped over the chair at his desk. She stands idly with his infamous, snowman littered Christmas sweater draped over her body, accentuating her long legs. But Bellamy’s only gaze at her, the carefulness of her presence as she smoothens her hand over the sweater in admiration, a small smile decorating her features.

Clarke looks up at him, with a placid smile on her face. He almost forgets about the mountains of stress he was under just moments before, taking the opportunity to gaze at her, soak all of her in. She angles her body towards him, her amusement morphing into confusion as she tips her eyebrows up to him.

“I was going to compliment your taste in Christmas sweaters,” Clarke begins. “But now you’re looking at me weird.”

“I just really want to take you on this bed,” Bellamy brushes her off, sauntering up towards her and sliding his hands over her back.

Clarke leans away from him as he tries to plant kisses up her neck. “That’s not it. You didn’t have your horny face on.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows raise. “My horny face?”

“Yeah, you have a horny face. Your smirk, the raise of your eyebrows, the glint in your eye.”

“I think you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’m just very observant.”

Clarke unwraps his arms from her and draws back towards the bed. She sits down, but makes no effort to get comfortable. She places her hands in her lap, and looks up to him expectantly. Bellamy’s confused, but damn, the girl’s got some gravitational pull to her. He settles down in the mattress, knee brushing up against hers. That shot of electricity he gets whenever he’s near her resonates through his spine, but not in a way that makes him want to pounce on her. He gazes at her, her eyes showing understanding and patience, and that all too familiar light.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clarke asks.

“I won’t bother you with the details,” Bellamy laughs bitterly.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

Bellamy clamps his lips shut, mulling this over in his mind. He doesn’t know what it is about Clarke that pulls him towards her so desperately. She’s hot, of course, and that’s why he started fucking her. But there’s a fusion of layers to her, that range from her studious, practical side when it comes to school to how wild she is when they’re in the backroom. And now, as she sits before him, on his bed, the only thing on her mind is how he is.

And truly, Bellamy doesn’t get it. There’s nothing more stressful than hearing someone else’s problems. But Clarke’s eyes are wide, intrigued, ears perked with interest. Maybe, this is just what the both of them need right now. They’re pretty good at giving each other exactly what they need.

“This is my sister and I’s first Christmas without our mom. I got this job so I could get her these kickboxes classes she wants for Christmas,” Bellamy explains with a huff. “It’s just – hard. Our mom wasn’t around a lot, and now neither am I.”

Clarke reaches out, placing her hand over his. It’s not sexual, or any type of advance, but the feeling of warmth on his skin brings him a sense of comfort he hasn’t received in a while. She meets his eye. “I’m sorry. But your sister has to know you’re doing the best you can.”

“She does. Sometimes. And that’s great, but I feel like I need to be doing more.”

“You don’t. You work at the museum too, right?”

Bellamy nods in response.

“You’re overworking yourself. And I understand you need to, trust me, but you’re doing all you can. And that’s better than most.”

He smiles gratefully at her. Clarke’s always had a way with words, he’s picked up on that a multitude of times. But now, sitting in the dim lighting of his bedroom, and gazing at the blue in her eyes, Bellamy gains a different sense of understanding about Clarke. Her lips tip up in a smile, a twinge of sad tainting its contents.

“The first Christmas is always the hardest,” Clarke says. “My dad died when I was sixteen. This will be my third Christmas without him.”

Bellamy’s gaze softens. “I’m sorry.”

“It sucks. But he’s still here, a part of him. I’m also majoring in Art because of him.”

“You draw? I always see you with that damn bio textbook–”

“My other major is Pre-Med. But art…he always liked my art.”

Bellamy returns her sad smile, intertwining his fingers with hers. She seems surprised by this, but returns his touch nonetheless, gazing up at him with that infamous twinkle in her eye. Clarke leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He switches his position, smacking his lips against hers. She returns the kiss with a giggle, the softness of their lips meshing together making Bellamy’s heart drop in a flutter to his chest.

Clarke pulls away, smoothening her hands over his chest. “I’d love for you to fuck me, right now, but I have an exam in the morning. You mind if I keep your lamp on to study?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Go ahead.”

As they’ve settled for the night, Bellamy rests in his bed, while Clarke sits at his desk, flipping through her textbook. The lamp on the corner of his desk illuminates the glow of her locks, and the side of her face. He tries his best not to fall asleep, despite both of them working in the morning, enwrapped in the way she pokes her tongue out of her cheek when she concentrates, eyebrows furrowing in determination. He finds that her fingers trace the words in the textbook when she’s super focused, and that she repeats phrases to herself over and over, just to get them right.

Any sleepiness Bellamy may have had disappears when he gazes at Clarke. She does a great job at alleviating his stress and vice versa, but she has this way of bringing life into things. Not only at their job, cheerily interacting with the kids and helping him with his own duties, but in the way she speaks and presents herself. They’re two different sides of the same coin, living a life to provide for others as well as themselves.

Bellamy sits up in his bed. Clarke glances over her shoulder at him, and he smirks back at her. “Can I test you?”

Clarke gnaws on her bottom lip, glancing from the textbook and back at him. “You don’t want to go to sleep?”

Bellamy shakes his head, already climbing out of bed. He settles on the edge of his bed instead, Clarke swiveling his chair around so that she can face him. She hands him the textbook, open to the page of practice question and brings her knees up to her chest. She waits patiently, her eyes locking with him in anticipation.

“Alright,” Bellamy scans the page. “What branch of the nervous system receives sensory information and controls muscle movements?”

Clarke doesn’t miss a beat. In fact, she scoffs. “The somatic system.”

“Okay, smarty-pants,” Bellamy smirks. “Let’s try a harder one.”

Bellamy’s not quite sure what a harder one entails, but he picks the one with the least amount of words he recognizes. Clarke gets that one with ease, too. Every single question he poses, Clarke gets right without a second thought. He even resorts to Google, and Clarke is able to answer those questions with ease to. He slams the textbook down on his desk, bewildered.

“Why the fuck are you so worried?” Bellamy inquires. “You could probably teach this class.”

“I can’t afford to re-take this class, and the final is worth seventy percent of my grade.” Clarke sighs, running her hand through her hair. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Normally, Bellamy would offer his physical services in response to her stress. But the frown on her face quickens his heart rate, and he frowns. “You alright, Clarke?”

“Yeah,” Clarke forces a smile. “Pre-Med just…sucks. My mom pays my tuition, but I already know I’m going to fail one of my other courses. She won’t pay for me to re-take that, or this one.”

“Is that why you’re at Arkadia Mall?”

“Well, it’s certainly not because I like the costume.”

Bellamy smirks at her. “I like your costume.”

Clarke laughs, gazing at him with a small smile. It diminishes slightly, the longer he stares. “I just feel like I have no time to be _me_. Whenever I’m not at the mall, I’m studying. Is that all I am now? An elf and a broke college student?”

Bellamy ruminates over this, trying to ignore a slight twinge in his heart. He can see the shimmer of tears in Clarke’s eyes, and she turns away from him. He frowns as she begins feverishly swiping under her eyes, and that’s when he stands to his feet, wrapping her in his embrace. She leans her head against his chest, and weeps quietly.

“I don’t even smoke,” Clarke manages to get out. “I only just picked it up, just to take away some of that fucking stress–”

“Hey,” Bellamy brushes a strand of hair out of her face, cupping her cheek so that she’ll look at him. “You can leave the stress reliver to me.”

Clarke laughs through her tears, leaning up to peck his lips softly. He leans in for more, but she’s already settled back into the chair. He holds her a little tighter as she snuggles closer to him.

“You know, you’re so much more than that. So much more that I don’t even _know_ ,” Bellamy urges her. He holds her cheeks steady, forcing her to keep her eyes locked on him. “And I’ll be here. If you need someone, I can be that person. You can rely on me.”

Clarke smiles gratefully through her tears. She leans up, running her hand down the side of his face. He shivers at her touch, but relishes in it, soaking into the way she gazes up at him, like she’s taken solace in his words. She should. He means every single thing that he said to her. The words just flew from his mouth, didn’t just sound right, but felt right. And he intends to keep his promise.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke sighs. “I’ve kind of bombarded you tonight.”

“Don’t be,” Bellamy smiles. “Now, come to bed. You know this stuff, and you need to rest.”

She leans back into him, burying her face into his chest. Bellamy takes that as an acceptance of his suggestion, scooping her into his arms. Clarke wraps her legs around his torso as he carries her over to the bed, carefully laying her down before placing the sheets over her. Her eyes seem to close the moment she hits the pillow, and he smiles as her face morphs into relaxation, a state he’s only seen her in when she’s under him.

Bellamy climbs into bed beside her, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her. She’s already sound asleep, and he doesn’t want to wake her. But he can’t deny his desire to hold her close, cuddle up next to her and bury his head in her shoulder. He manages, however, despite the pang in his chest and turns his back to her, trying to sleep as well.

* * *

Clarke leaves around six in the morning. Bellamy doesn’t see her go, but he hears his bedroom door click shut, followed by the sound of pattering footsteps. He strains his ears, waiting for the sound of his front door to open and close, and when it does, he settles back into bed. He considers texting her a good luck, when he remembers he doesn’t even have her number. Instead, Bellamy settles back into bed, aware that the pang in his chest is still present from last night.

He doesn’t have to be up for another hour, so he tries to switch his position in bed to get more comfortable. Bellamy creeps up to the edge of the bed where Clarke formally laid, the mattress still indented by her body. He peers over the side at the trashcan next to his bed, noticing the box of cigarettes laying idly in the bag.

* * *

Sometimes, in between breaks, they don’t even have sex. Clarke will sit on his lap in breakroom and listen to him drown out about her day, surprisingly intrigued by whatever’s happening at the museum. One day, on one of the slower weeknights, Clarke doodles at the side of her textbook. Bellamy catches her at the podium, on a Tuesday, drawing snowflakes so intricate his eyes can’t help but fixate on the patterns and slopes.

“I’ve got to commission you,” Bellamy jokes.

Clarke smiles, but doesn’t look up at him. “I have to erase this textbook before I return it.”

“Or you can tear it out, give it to me. Say a dog ate it. Or a reindeer.”

Clarke laughs, hearty and low in her belly. It brings a smile to Bellamy’s face, one that stretches across his cheeks and transforms into a grin. She playfully smacks his chest, and he catches her hand, bringing it to his lips to smack a kiss against it. She giggles some more, pulling away before turning to her drawing.

Bellamy marvels at her, every chance he gets. The way she exudes light, although she may not feel it within herself, always reaches him. It strikes his heart and travels to the pit of his stomach. She never fails to bring a smile to his face, never fails to fill him with joy that extends beyond the holiday season.

“You have jokes, don’t you?” Clarke teases, lifting her head to look at him.

“Only for you,” Bellamy winks.

“Oh, sure.”

Clarke shakes her head, focusing back on her drawing. She adds a little detail to the edge of her snowflakes, immersing herself in her artwork. She must feel his gaze on her, because she lifts her head, peering at him curiously. Bellamy raises his eyebrows, trying to pass it off like he hadn’t just been admiring her.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Clarke begins. “For that night. A couple days ago.”

“You did,” Bellamy feigns shock. “In the car.”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles softly. “I’m serious. Thank you. It means a lot to me, to have you around. I know we’ve only known each other for a couple weeks, but I–I like you.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen, but he quickly resumes a pokerface. He’s not quite sure what she means by that. But she’s not alert, not concerned by the words that have tumbled from her lips. Instead, she straightens, tips her chin up, keeps the smile on her face. She means it. And he’s meant every word he’s said to her, so maybe, he should stop freaking out internally.

“I like you, too,” and he’s not just saying it to say it. Clarke’s smile grows, and his heart glows in response. “And I’m glad I met you. This job would be boring without you.”

Clarke takes this with a courteous nod and returns to her snowflake drawing. He’s not sure if there’s something he should say next, but all he wants is to stay by her side, for as long as he possibly can. So, until another kid shows up, he hovers behind her, watching over her shoulder as she adds the littlest of details to the snowflakes, all of which accumulate into the most intricate of sketches he’s seen in his life.

* * *

“I want the new Lego set, a remote control rover, the play-dough that you can make into food– not edible ones, obviously– oh, and there’s this game box–”

Bellamy’s been listening to this boy drown on about his list of wishes for about three minutes. It’s a Thursday, which means nothing other than a slow day. And this kid is the definition of taking time. Bellamy’s nearly dozed off, if it’s not for Clarke, leaning over the podium and flipping through a textbook, like she is every time they’re working. 

Normally, he avoids looking at Clarke during breaks. It usually just makes him horny, and he really doesn’t want to put himself in that position when there’s children around. But now, he actually considers them _friends_. Looking at her is just a pastime, gives him the opportunity to absorb every inch of her, even when she’s not paying attention to him. Sometimes, just gazing at her while she talks or while she draws is his favorite activity.

They’ve gotten into the habit drives her back to his place every day of the weekend, when she doesn’t have school the next day, but she always leaves before the sun comes up and Octavia wakes with it. The last thing he wants is to break his own rule, even though he’s done it a plenty of times with Clarke by now.

The florescent lighting above them never really does anyone wonders, but Clarke can make anything glow. The light beams down on her, capturing the waves in her blonde hair, reaching just to the mid of her back. Her tongue pokes out of the side of her cheek in concentration, eyes narrowed into slits as she glares at something in the textbook. Bellamy sees her mouth the words, _fucking bitch_ , and can’t suppress his laugh, wondering who is such a goddamn nuisance in her book full of biological concepts.

“You think my firetruck is funny?” The boy, Aden, pouts.

Bellamy straightens in panic as this boy’s eyes start to fill with tears. Out of his peripheral, he catches Clarke’s head swivel over her shoulder, an amused smile on her face. He finds this situation less exciting than she does, considering he’s about to have a crying child on his lap with his parents just a couple of feet away.

“No, I think it’s amazing,” Bellamy puts on his most cheeriest voice, and he hears Clarke snicker. “I was just laughing at the color _red_. Why not make it blue? Keep things interesting.”

It’s a shot in the dark, but a tactic he’s learned when Octavia was young. Seemingly, it does the trick, Aden’s eyes lighting up before he rambles some more. By the time his parents usher him away, Aden’s still shouting last second gift suggestions to him. Bellamy just smiles and waves, a utter feeling of relief washing over him when the family disappears around the corner. He slouches against the chair, and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, Santa,” Bellamy opens his eyes to Clarke faking a pout. She saunters up to him, and without warning, sinks into his lap. “You seem so overwhelmed.”

“Clarke–” He shuffles to straighten up in the chair. “We’re in the middle of the mall–”

“It’s a Thursday,” Clarke rolls her eyes. “And I missed you.”

Bellamy’s heart soars. “We can go on break soon–”

“Oh! And I wanted to tell you something,” Clarke disregards his concern, her face lighting up. “I got an eighty two on my exam. I don’t need to retake the course.”

Bellamy grins. “That’s amazing. How many exams do you have to go?”

“Just one,” Clarke shrugs. “On Saturday. Then I’m free for the rest of the holidays.”

The longing look she gives him should be a hint to Bellamy. It is, he feels the little tick in his heart and the tension filling the air. _Free for the rest of the holidays_. Something he is very much not. But gazing up at Clarke, her eyes wide and hopeful, he feels a twinge of regret. She’s kind of amazing, and it’s not something he’s missed. He’s just not sure he can give her the time and dedication to prove to her just how amazing he thinks she is.

Luckily, Clarke dangling across his lap is a plentiful distraction. Bellamy scans their section of the mall, absent of any customers, and while he’s sure they’ll get some onlookers soon enough, he doesn’t mind running his hand along her soft thighs while he can. She giggles, the ghost of his fingers tickling at her skin, and Bellamy’s heart glows at his ability to make her smile.

“I wish I was free for the rest of the holidays,” Bellamy sighs dramatically. He creeps his hand up towards her panties, this time feeling the minimal fabric of a thong. She suppresses a moan as he runs his fingers along the strap, barely capturing even a fraction of her cunt. “But I can make some time for my good girl, right now.”

The break sign is propped up on the podium faster than either of them can say _Merry Christmas_.

Bellamy has her laid down on the bench, tits out and skirt ridden up to her hips. He pulls her thong down to her ankles as he discards the beard, before he licks one, long stripe up her cunt. She shivers and moans beneath him, sinking her fingers into his hair as he licks at her pussy. He encloses his lips around her cunt, suckling on her clit for a moment before he returns to the rapid stripes. He holds her hips, pushing her cunt closer to him, desperate to explore every inch of her.

Clarke scrunches up his hair in her fist as she comes, a sigh of relief flowing through her and vibrating throughout her cunt, all the way to his mouth. He moans in delight, making sure she gets the extra edge that she needs to ride out her orgasm. He keeps his eyes on her, watching as she arches her back up to him, wanting him to taste every part of her, just as much as he desires to do the same. Her hand falls from his curls and splays across her forehead as she tries to control her breath.

“You taste so good, pretty girl,” Bellamy praises her, mouth still slick with her. He leans in, kissing her softly, making sure she can taste herself on his lips. Against her lips, he murmurs, “You’re always so good for me.”

Bellamy forces himself to draw back from her, taking a seat on the edge of the bench. Clarke scoots up, peering at him curiously as he glances away from her. She leans over to rub his hand against his shaft, still enclosed in his pants, but he takes her hand, placing it beside them instead and holding it there. He can’t deny, he kind of feels guilty. Knows she wants more from this then he can give her. And she senses it too, pulling her hand away with a frown.

“Are you alright?” Clarke asks, like she doesn’t already know.

“Yeah,” Bellamy lies. “We should get back. I’m just trying to calm down.”

“It’s a Thursday. Nobody will miss us.”

“Wick is here, today. We may as well be prompt.”

Clarke absorbs this, although he can tell she doesn’t believe it. She pulls up her bra and top, along with her thong, and Bellamy thinks she’s going to stand, when instead she scoots closer to him. She wraps her arms around him, balancing her chin on his shoulder and running her hands over the side of his face. He can’t help it, leaning into her a little more, just to feel her touch on him.

“What’s on your mind?” Clarke whispers in his ear. “Why can’t I help?”

“You do help,” Bellamy assures her. “It’s just a lot right now.”

“What’s a lot?”

“Everything. Christmas is in a week. I’m working two jobs. Octavia–”

“Me?”

Bellamy snaps his head towards her. “Not you. You’re the best part of my day.”

His cheeks flush the moment he says it. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. The last thing Bellamy wants to do is lead Clarke on, despite his growing feelings towards her. Her eyes twinkle when she looks at him, and the only thing that gets him up and gets him to this stupid job is her, and any whiny kid or angry parent is erased from his mind when she smiles. And yet, they’re not working together for much longer, their schedules to be replaced by her schoolwork and his nine to five job, along with Octavia. He doesn’t want to start something he knows he can’t finish, despite him desperately wanting to.

Bellamy would like to say it’s just a crush. But he’s not sure he’s ever had a crush be this painful, nothing as crushing as looking at Clarke and not being able to give her what she wants. She deserves to have everything, and he wants to be the one that gives her that. But he just can’t.

“Right,” Clarke flashes him a forced smile. She stands to her feet, smoothening out her uniform. “I’ll meet you out there, okay?”

Bellamy nods, allows her to walk out the door with her head held high. _Fuck_. He could curse himself ten times over, but he’s pretty sure the Universe already had a vendetta against him.

* * *

Bellamy’s not certain if it’s because the next couple of days are busy, or because Clarke’s avoiding him, but the distance between them is noticeable. She doesn’t speak to him much, unless it’s to notify him of another kid, and she takes her breaks before he does, instead of with him. It’s Saturday now, and that means she’s just finished her final exam, so he’s not running off to do anything else other than not be around him.

He’s just become friends with Clarke, granted, also just kind of started falling for her, and he’s already messed it up. She doesn’t even glance at him, show him her tiny amused smile. All there is, is a forced cheeriness and nod whenever a kid comes and goes. If he had any time this weekend, he’d try and talk to her, but she’s hellbent on making that harder for him.

Some luck comes his way towards the end of his shift, when they’re both stuck cleaning up. Clarke knows there’s no use in telling him she’s got an exam, she already told him that she had her last one this morning. So, when the last of the kids leave, he heaves the sweaty beard off of him, and stands from his chair. Clarke’s bent over, picking up some kid’s trash when he steps towards her, only for a guy with a _Ground’s Burgers_ uniform on to pop up behind the fence.

Bellamy stops in his tracks as the floppy haired boy leans against the fence, eyes glazing over Clarke as his mouth begins moving to talk to her. He recognizes him from the fast food joint in the mall, but Bellamy’s never bought anything from that grease shack and he doubts Clarke has either. She doesn’t look like she knows him, but she bats her eyelashes when he talks to her, and that’s enough to make Bellamy’s blood boil.

He strides over, eyes blazing. “Clarke. Can’t clean this up by myself.”

“Just a minute, man.” The boy brushes him off.

Bellamy squints at the boy’s nametag. “Finn, is it? You’ve got anything better than to do than you creep out my co-worker?”

“He’s not creeping me out,” Clarke insists, although the tone in her voice is playful. Bellamy narrows his eyes at her. She’s toying with him. She flips her hair over her shoulder, and returns her attention to Finn. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Finn grins, lavishing in all this attention Clarke seems to be giving him. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime–”

“She doesn’t,” Bellamy barks. Clarke glances at him, annoyed, but his eyes never leave Finn’s. “Now, fuck off.”

“What’s your problem, man?” Finn scowls.

“You are. Now stay the fuck away from my girl, before I give you a reason not to come back into world.”

Finn straightens, under the assumption he’s misread the conversation. He glances from Clarke, who surprisingly stays quiet, to Bellamy, his eyes darker than they’ve ever been. To his credit, he excuses himself without another word, walking in the opposite direction of the Santa center. Bellamy watches him go, ensuring he disappears around the corner before he grabs Clarke’s wrist and marches them into the backroom.

Bellamy props her chest up against the locker before either of them can under a word. Clarke squeals with delight as Bellamy gets to his knees, licking and nipping along her thighs to the curve of her ass before he straightens back up. He brings his hand down, smacking Clarke’s ass, an echo falling off her skin. Clarke groans, and he leans in to whisper in her ear.

“What have you been doing to me, naughty girl?” Bellamy growls. “Good girls don’t tease, and they don’t let other guys think their interested.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t interested?”

He clenches her ass in his hand, rubbing his hardened cock against her bare bottom. She groans, attempting to gain some friction by grinding herself down on him, but Bellamy uses his palm to hold her against the lockers. She whines, and he knows she’s aching for him. She should be. He’s been aching for her all weekend.

Bellamy flips her around, pressing her back against the lockers so he can crash his lips against hers. She welcomes him warmly, allowing his tongue to seep into her mouth and take control of her own. The moan that leaves her lips and vibrates throughout his sends him insane. He grinds his crotch down on her and Clarke jerks her hips up to meet his in response. He’s got to have her now, and she’s more than willing to let him have her.

He hooks his fingers under her panties and sinks them down to her ankles. Digging through his pocket, Bellamy retrieves a condom as Clarke works on his own buckle. By the time she’s shuffled his pants down his thighs, he’s rolling his condom onto his dick. He kicks off his pants and places his hands on the back of Clarke’s thighs to lift her, positioning her between him and the lockers as he aligns with her throbbing cunt.

Sliding inside of her is never something he’ll get used to. He’s been fucking Clarke for weeks, and each time his cock anchors inside of her, it’s a different type of heaven. She engulfs him with ease, a groan escaping her lips as she buries her head on his shoulder, wrapping her legs around his torso and hands around his neck.

Bellamy pounds in and out of her at a relentless pace, heart soaring at the way she yelps and moans for him. “You think anyone can fuck you better than I can, pretty girl?”

Clarke only yelps in response. He slides out of her fully, and slams back into her, a unsheathed moan escaping and resonating through his ears.

“Nobody can fuck me better than you,” Clarke affirms in between gasps. He keeps going, as he nails dig into his skin. “Fuck, _Bellamy_.”

“You’re mine. You know that? My good girl.” Bellamy heaves, feeling himself approaching a climax. He snaps his hips against hers. “ _Mine_.”

Clarke leans her head back against the lockers, providing enough space between them for Bellamy to reach his hand down and rub her clit. Her mouth falls open, her eyes screwed shut, tits threatening to spill from her top.

“I’m all yours,” Clarke gasps. She looks at him, her blue eyes opening just to lock with his dark ones. “All yours, baby.”

That’s enough to send him over the edge. His lips fall against hers in a feverish kiss as he comes, Clarke following soon after. She collapses against him in a fit of groans, and he holds her close, riding the waves of their orgasms in each other’s embrace. He nestles his face in her neck as well, basking in the softness of her matted skin. Sweat drips from both of their bodies, slicking onto each other as if they’re one.

Even as he pulls out of her, they stay entangled with one another. Buried in one another’s bodies, breaths gliding off each other’s skin, limbs tangled together. Bellamy holds her closely against him as she repositions her head to lay on his chest. He knows she can hear how rapidly his heart is beating, wonders if she knows it’s because of more than just the sex.

Bellamy presses a kiss to the top of her forehead and pleads, “Come stay with me, tonight.”

Clarke glances up at him, chin balancing against his chest. Her eyes glimmer with tears, and he’s not sure if it’s because of the amazing sex or how horrible of a person he is. But she leans up anyways, enveloping her lips in a slow, painful kiss.

* * *

Bellamy fucks Clarke all night long. She writhes and presses her face into the pillow to suppress her moans, careful not to wake his sister. Every time they pause, and he tries to curl up next to her, she’ll get on top of him, or start kissing him or bring her hand down to his cock, anything to stop him from talking. It breaks a little part of him, even though he knows nothing he says will be satisfactory for her. So, he lets it go. Gives her what she wants until the sun comes up, and they both have to start getting ready for work.

* * *

It’s a Sunday, which means their shift begins promptly at nine. Clarke has her uniform here, so there’s no sense in her heading back home. All Bellamy has to do is make sure they get by Octavia, who he hopes sticks to her regular schedule of sleeping in on the weekends until noon.

“You can wait in the car,” Bellamy whispers, handing her Clarke keys as they tiptoe towards the door. “I’m going to put waffles in the toaster for Octavia–”

“Don’t need waffles,” Bellamy and Clarke whip their head around to see Octavia standing at the foot of the stairs. She’s in a sweater and jeans, rid of her pajamas, with her backpack slung over her shoulder and a glare on her features. “I’m coming to work with you.”

Bellamy swallows thickly. “You have homework.”

Octavia gestures to the backpack slung over her shoulder. “I’ll do it at the mall.”

“You won’t be able to focus. It’s so noisy–”

“I’m coloring a stupid map for Geography class, and it’s the last week before Christmas break. I can survive a little noise.” Octavia snorts, before turning her attention to Clarke, who fails to hide behind Bellamy. “And you? Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Bellamy glares at his sister. “Octavia–”

Clarke steps out behind Bellamy, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Sorry. I’m Clarke. I work with your brother.”

Octavia narrows her eyes at Clarke. “Do you sleep with all the people you work with?”

Clarke’s face goes white, and Bellamy’s grows red. Octavia shifts her weight from one foot to the other, seemingly unbothered by her question, all the amused by the colors littering the adults faces’ before her. He smiles apologetically at Clarke, but she’s already trying to bypass him and run out the door. If Bellamy didn’t love his sister so much, he’d seriously consider killing her.

* * *

“This job is so boring. More boring than the museum!”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, watching as Octavia drapes herself over his chair. They’ve hit a quiet spot in the day, just hours left until Bellamy’s shift is over. Octavia’s just finished up her homework, and boredom has set in, just like Bellamy predicted it would. At least when she’s at home, she can have a friend over or watch television. Here, Octavia has nothing to do, but bother him.

“You’ve got to head back to the backroom when another kid comes,” Bellamy scowls. “Otherwise, I could get fired.”

“Why does it matter?” Octavia sighs, propping herself in his lap. “Christmas is in a week. Don’t you have enough money for the kickbox classes yet?”

Bellamy sighs, running his hand through Octavia’s hair. “We’re almost there, alright, O? Can you just, please, behave yourself?”

Octavia crosses her arms over her chest, clearly not content with being given an ultimatum. She glances around the Santa center as the fake grass and plastic fence, before her eyes find the podium, Clarke perching herself there. She was quiet the whole car ride, perfectly content in listening to Octavia ramble about some student in her class she despised, probably relived to not have the attention on her. However, as Octavia’s eyes narrow, Bellamy can predict the words that are going to come from her mouth before she even says them.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Octavia ponders.

“No, she’s not.” Bellamy confirms with a pointed stare.

“Good. That skirt is way too short.”

“Don’t talk about people that way, Octavia.”

Annoyed with her brother’s scolding, Octavia hops off his lap with a dramatic sigh. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

“No, you’re not.” Bellamy hisses, grabbing his sister’s wrist before she can skip away from him. “We’re working. You could get us both fired.”

Octavia yanks her wrist out of Bellamy’s hold. “I’ll just pretend I’m a kid waiting for Santa.”

She reaches her hand out to caress his beard, before she grips it in her hand and pulls it down his chin. When she releases it, it snaps against his chin. Bellamy yelps, readjusting his haphazard beard on his face with a fixed glare on his sister.

Octavia just smiles, swiveling around on her heel and skipping over to Clarke. Bellamy watches hopelessly as Octavia taps Clarke on the shoulder, and instantly begins rambling. Clarke appears surprised, and a little nervous, especially because Octavia’s lips never stop fucking moving. She nervously shifts her gaze over to Bellamy, and he tries to assure her with a wince and mouthing a “Sorry” in her direction.

His sister doesn’t pick up on any of these social cues, peering at piece of paper Clarke’s had on the podium. Without a textbook to doodle on, Bellamy’s noticed her replace it with some scrap pieces of paper. She dances her pen across it, in intricate little designs and when she runs out of room, she flips it over to the back.

Octavia reaches her hand out, pointing to random things on the page, and he wants to crawl into this fucking Santa suit and just pass away. To his surprise, Clarke’s amused by his sister’s litter of questions, and soon her mouth begins moving to, explaining all the little drawings she has jotted down. Relief washes over him, as a smile is brought to his face.

Bellamy gets up from the chair to join the conversation, but then the line picks back up, and he’s seated back in that chair for the rest of his shift. Octavia stays beside Clarke, though, helping her keep track of the kids to send Bellamy’s way. Halfway through, Clarke even lets Octavia wear her hat.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” Octavia begs when their shift finally comes to a close.

Bellamy laughs, giving Clarke a grateful smile before glancing back at Octavia with a stern expression. “You have school.”

“Your shift starts at three!”

“And you’ll probably have homework.”

Octavia huffs, stomping off in the opposite direction. Bellamy hopes it’s to retrieve her stuff, but he also wouldn’t mind her dawdling around a little longer to give him some time with Clarke. She watches his sister go with an amused smile, turning to him with raised eyebrows.

“She’s funny,” Clarke comments.

“I’m glad somebody thinks so,” Bellamy huffs.

Clarke’s smile diminishes slightly, glancing around to check that their alone. The mall is still littered with customers, as he Santa center closes earlier on weekends. But in the middle of this fake field is just the two of them, and he finds himself swallowing as Clarke rids of most of the gap between them.

“I understand, you know. That you have a lot going on,” Clarke chooses her words carefully. “You’re raising your sister, and you work two jobs, and I didn’t mean to put added pressure on you.”

“Trust me, Clarke, you didn’t.” Bellamy assures her. “You’ve allowed me to breathe for the first time in a long time.” His sigh comes out shaky, and he forces himself to keep looking her in the eye. “But I can’t be the person you deserve to be with.”

The time and dedication it takes to being a boyfriend, it’s something he knows he has in him. But he barely sees Octavia as in, and if he turns out to a carbon copy of his mother, dumping the child he’s raising for others, he’ll never be able to live with himself. Not when Octavia needs him so much right now.

Clarke’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I – if I thought this was something it’s not.”

Bellamy feels a wave of guilt and shame wash over him. He shakes his head rapidly, trying to lock eyes with Clarke, pleading for her understanding. “No, Clarke. I just… you’re right. I have a lot going on with Octavia. She’s pretty much all I got. And she – my sister comes first.”

Clarke pushes her lips together tightly, nodding her head slowly. He winces, knowing that may not have come out in the way he’d hoped. He reaches out to her, but she steps back, glancing around the busy mall. He sighs, but reserves himself, drawing back from her to give her the space that she needs.

“I wish things were different,” Bellamy pleads.

He’s not sure if she’s believes him, because she avoids his eye. She leans her hand up to rub the back of her neck, a heated sigh escaping from her lips before she forces herself to look up at him. Bellamy recognizes that look before she even says the words, and his heart propels to the depths of his chest.

“Me, too.” Clarke tells him with a forced smile. “But we’re only working together for five more days. So, maybe we should stop…whatever this is, here.”

“But I don’t want to–”

“Please, Bellamy.”

Out of all of the times she’s begged him, nothing has ever felt more painful than the words sounding like this. Bellamy softens, not able to string together any sentence that she deserves as accepts defeat, nodding his head. She takes the opportunity to step further away from him, and he lets her go, watches as she walks away towards the backroom.

“Bellamy,” Octavia’s voice sounds behind him. He closes his eyes and sighs. She’s quiet, meaning she feels bad. She must have heard everything. He turns around, and she’s standing sheepishly. “Do you want to go home now?”

Bellamy offers his sister a forced smile. He’s intent on making her happy, even if he can’t be.

* * *

The last child that sits on his lap is one that reminds him of Octavia. Her name is Madi, and she’s younger than his sister, maybe around five or six, but has thick brown hair and shiny, blue eyes. She’s fiery, coming to him with a full list in mind and no room for negotiation, but when they say their goodbyes, she wraps her arms around him and gives him the tightest hug.

“Thank you, Santa,” Madi sings. She pulls away from him and hops off his lap, “I’ll stay awake on Christmas, so I can say hello!”

“You have to be asleep in order for me to come!” Bellamy calls out to her as her mother ushers her away.

He doesn’t even realize he’s still smiling until Clarke nudges him. Bellamy looks up, noting Clarke’s smirk. “You’re going to miss this, aren’t you?”

Bellamy’s got to give Clarke some credit. When Monday morning rolled around, she’d been nothing more than a professional and acquaintance. She’d crack jokes every now and again, but whenever he tried to talk to her about something more, she would wave him off. And now, as he gazes up to her, the tips of something more dancing on his tongue, he restrains himself. He owes her that, at least for the time being.

“Maybe a little,” Bellamy admits. “You’re saying you aren’t?”

“Nope. I’m not going to miss any part about this place,” Clarke sighs, instantly heading over to the trash bag to start cleaning up for the night.

Bellamy rids of his Santa hat and beard, tucking them away as he grabs another trash bag and starts on the opposite side. He glances over at her, “You’re not going to miss anything else?”

“Not one thing.”

He collects the trash he can spot, and walks over to her side of the Santa center. Bellamy brushes against her, and he feels her stiffen beside him. He leans down beside her, despite Clarke definitely not needing any help in collecting trash. She sighs heavily, trying to scoot over away from him, but he just follows her.

“Well, I’m also going to miss you,” Bellamy tells her.

Clarke ignores him. He sighs, _I guess I deserve that_.

They finish collecting the trash and cleaning up the rest of the joint. Clarke heads to the backroom soon after, and he knows he should probably trail after her if he doesn’t want to miss her before she goes, but he looks back at the Santa center, no longer illuminated by the fancy lights or mall getup. Maybe he shouldn’t feel sentimental, but he’s got to be at least a little grateful to the place. It helped him raise money for Octavia’s kickboxing classes and it lead him to Clarke.

Clarke’s already buttoning up her coat by the time he enters. This backroom is a trigger for the both of them, so she hurries to fasten her buttons before she attempts to brush by him. He steps in front of the exit, and her eyes flash with such anger that Bellamy laughs.

“Calm down,” Bellamy assures her. “I have something for you.”

“I don’t need anything from you.” Clarke bites out.

Yet, she doesn’t leave. Bellamy brushes past her to his locker, dialing in the combination and swinging it open in one shift motion. He makes sure to check out of his peripheral that she hasn’t slipped out of the room as he pulls out the gift bag, decorated with little cartoon reindeers, that he stored in his locker this morning. Turning around and seeing the softened gaze of her features is enough to fill him with all the holiday joy he can ask for.

“Bellamy,” she breathes. “Why did you do this?”

“Because I wanted to,” Bellamy shrugs. “Someone’s got to give you praise for being such a good helper.” He holds out the gift bag to her. “Open it.”

Clarke appears hesitant, but takes the bag from him nonetheless. She walks over to the bench, taking a seat as she places the bag on her lap. Bellamy sheds the jacket of his Santa suit in the meantime, leaving him in his tank top and Santa pants as she unravels the tissue. Her eyes meet his as she reaches inside and pulls out the leather sketchbook he purchased for her. When her gaze flickers down to marvel at it, a gasp leaves her throat.

“I was tired of seeing you drawing on textbooks and scrap paper,” Bellamy states with a cheesy smile. “I like to hope as half an Art major, you have your own. But maybe this one can just be for fun.”

“It’s amazing,” Clarke runs her hand over the leather cover. “I didn’t–I didn’t get you anything–”

Bellamy leaps forward to take a seat beside her. “You did. You gave me room to breathe, a place to be me. And I only wish I could give you that same thing.”

Clarke’s bottom lip quivers. “You did, Bellamy. You gave me all of that. I just wish we could have had more of it.”

His eyes glaze over as she sets the sketchbook aside. He barely sees her come forward, feels her touch first. Clarke’s fingers graze his cheek, the warmth he’s so akin to seeping into his skin instantly. She brushes her lips against his, so soft and barely there, and Bellamy just can’t take it. He surges forward, crashing their lips together in a fit of passion and need. Her arms snake around his neck as his find her waist, and he hoists her onto his lap.

Clarke grinds down on his crotch as Bellamy tears his lips away from hers to kiss at her neck. “Bellamy. I need you now.”

“Do you, pretty girl?” Bellamy whispers in my ear. “You’re going to be good for me?”

“I only want to be good for you.”

Bellamy groans hearing her melodic voice seep into his ear. He scrambles for a condom in his pocket, find of just hopeful that one is there. His fingers only find fabric, and he groans, his head falling against Clarke’s collarbones.

“What?” Clarke cups his cheeks, the desperation evident in her voice, bringing his head up to meet her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a condom with me,” Bellamy says sorrowfully.

Clarke thinks about it for a moment. “I’m on birth control. And I haven’t been with anyone else since before I started working here.”

Bellamy swallows thickly, the thought of being inside Clarke without any barrier between them shooting right to his cock. “Me, too.”

A grin spreads across Clarke’s face as she goes in to kiss him. Her mouth deepens against his while he works on his belt buckle. He slides it out of the loop, throwing it God knows where, before hoisting Clarke up slightly to shuffle his pants down to his ankles. His cock already stands to attention, just waiting for Clarke’s touch, but he can’t bring himself to stop kissing her to position her correctly.

Clarke takes the lead, however, making sure their lips never break apart as she holds the base of his cock. She lifts herself, aligning his tip with her entrance before slowly sinking down on him. Bellamy moans into her mouth, the warmth of her coating his cock and sending a similar fuzz to the rest of his body. Clarke adjusts to him, before the passion in her kiss returns.

Bellamy wraps his hands around her, slamming her up and down on his cock. Clarke knows how to ride, bouncing up and down at a matched pace, rubbing her clit at the base of him every time she comes down. He groans into her lips, unable to believe this is the end for them, despite not having known her just two months prior. He holds onto her tighter.

“I’m going to come inside you,” Bellamy whispers into her mouth. “You want that, pretty girl? You want to be a good girl and take all of me?”

“Yes, please, baby.” Clarke cries. “Come inside me, baby, _please_.”

He wants her to come first, so he places his hand in between the two of them, while the other steadies them on the bench. Bellamy rubs her clit in fast, tight circles until she’s moaning like crazy on his mouth. He feels her walls clench his cock, knows she’s just as close as he is. Clarke pulsates around his cock with a wretched moan, and he allows himself to come inside of her, hot ropes of come filling her to brim.

For a while, Bellamy just holds her there. He basks in the essence of her, takes the time to memorize every part of her. Clarke is someone he never wants to forget. Even as time passes, and the world overwhelms him, all he has to do is think of her – and then he’ll remember to breathe.

* * *

Octavia rips open the card as if the envelope didn’t have a flap to it. His sister is all different kinds of weird, but it’s all worth it to see her smile so brightly on Christmas morning. So, when she tears the side of the envelope open with her teeth, then resorting to using both of her hands to tear it apart, Bellamy just laughs. They both know what it is, but it’s the confirmation that has both of them giddy.

The card, one that Bellamy specifically picked out to be funny – dancing reindeers, _that’s so cute_ – is disregarded as Octavia opens it. The gift falls out, and Octavia basically hyperventilates to find it. She grasps the piece of paper in her hands, a big grin spread over her face. He’s never seen a child so excited to receive a receipt for Christmas.

“The kickboxing classes!” Octavia screeches. She leaps into her brother’s arms, basically sending him down to the floor from his cross legged position. “You’re the best big brother _ever_ , Bellamy.”

“I better be,” Bellamy heaves both of them upright, a grin spreading across his face. Octavia sits back on her heels, squealing at the receipt. “They start the first week of January. You better go to _every single one_ , O–”

“I will, I will.” Octavia promises. She sighs happily, then just as quickly as it appeared, her excitement dissipates. She stuffs the receipt back into the card, disregarding it beside her.

“Hey,” Bellamy narrows his eyes. “You can’t already be bored.”

To no surprise, Octavia ignores him, a different task occupying her mind. She leans over to the couch and pushes the cushion upwards. A piece of scrap paper lays idly on the surface, and she grabs it before outstretching her hand to Bellamy. She doesn’t bother to put the couch back in order as Bellamy hesitantly accepts the flimsy piece of paper from her.

“This is my Christmas gift to you,” Octavia announces, placing her hands in her lap.

Bellamy eyes her suspiciously. She’s only twelve, he didn’t expect anything at all, so he’s not really bummed by the piece of paper. But it’s not even a drawing or something colorful. He glances down at the scrap in his hand, squinting at the array of numbers and words scribbled across it.

“197 Alpha Road,” Bellamy reads out. He furrows his eyebrows together, wagging the scrap of paper up at Octavia. “Where is this?”

“It’s Clarke’s address,” Octavia wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “I thought you could go see her.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen, staring back at the address in his hand. He glances from Octavia back to the scrap piece of paper, and repeats the process, in utter disbelief. “How did you get this?”

“Clarke gave me her number when I went to work with you. You know, in case I wanted to talk to a _girl_ instead of a _boy_.” Bellamy rolls his eyes, but Octavia ignores him. “All I had to do was pop that into Google. And bam.”

“I think that’s stalking.”

“I’m actually just smart.”

Bellamy sighs, glancing back down at the paper. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Octavia’s quiet for a moment. “Bellamy, you don’t have to be a lonely loser for me. You can have friends, you can have a _girlfriend_.”

“I’m not lonely,” Bellamy decides to ignore the rest of the insult. “I have you.”

“And I have you. But I also have friends. We’re always going to be here for one another. You don’t need to be with me twenty four seven to tell me you care about me,” Octavia explains slowly. She pauses and then scoots closer to him. He tucks her under his arm, and she curls to his side. “You’re not Mom. This may be our first Christmas without her, but she’s never been here. You always have been.”

Bellamy feels his chest tighten, and he hugs his little sister closer to him. “I want to keep being there, O. I’m going to keep being there.”

“I know that. You don’t have to prove that to me. But you also don’t have to make yourself miserable so I can be happy. We can both be happy.”

He leans his head against the top of hers, trying to steady his breathing. Bellamy wraps his other arm around Octavia, nestling his nose in her neck. He’s so eternally grateful for his pain in the ass of a sister, filled with so much gratitude just by having custody of her, more so just for her existence. The last thing he wants is to lose her. And here she is, his twelve year old sister, promising him that’s never going to happen.

Bellamy wants to blame their mother for screwing him up so bad. But he can’t, not when Octavia’s here in his arms, and Clarke is just a thirty minute drive away. Not when he has both of the girls he loves just within his reach.

* * *

Bellamy wraps his fingers against the door, immediately shoving his hands into his pockets to shield them from the cold. Christmas has brought a partial blizzard to Arkadia, and it’s seem to also sprinkled into Polis as well. The snow comes down hard, and he had to basically tell Octavia to be quiet several times while he was driving here so he could focus on the road. But he’s here, standing in front of Clarke’s door, on Christmas day.

Clarke opens the door, a bewildered look already plastered across her face. Relief washes over him when she appears before him, but it’s soon replaced by amusement when his eyes land on her attire.

“That’s my Christmas sweater,” Bellamy accuses.

She wraps her arms around herself, consciously. “You never asked for it back.”

“I don’t need it back. It looks better on you.”

Clarke sucks in a breath, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to bring warmth back to her body. She pauses, glancing back at his car before at him. “Bellamy, what are you doing here? It’s Christmas.”

“I want to be with you,” Bellamy blurts out. Clarke’s eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to protest, but he silences her. “I know, I’ve been an ass. But it’s not because I don’t care about you, it’s because you came in, and I didn’t know how to function.”

Gnawing on her lip, Clarke glances back inside of her house. She reaches out and throws a jacket over her shoulders before slipping on a pair of slippers by the door. Bellamy draws back to give her space, allowing her to step outside. She hugs the jacket to her body, and stares pointedly at him. The light in her eyes shoots into his own, and he finds his breath.

“You’ve given me plenty of chances to fess up, and I failed,” Bellamy continues. “But God, I got that job so I could afford a Christmas gift for my sister. And you came in, and you gave me this peace that I didn’t know I could have. And it freaked me out. I didn’t think I could have this life with my sister and this life with you.”

“What’s changed?” Clarke snaps. “I saw you two days ago, and you let me go.”

“Nothing about how I feel about you has changed. All that’s changed is that I know I can be the man you deserve to have,” Bellamy steps closer, notes how Clarke swallows when he closes the gap between them. He rests his forehead against hers. “If you give me the chance, Clarke, I’ll be the best partner you could ever ask for.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t move either. Bellamy leans in slowly, giving her ample time to refute him. But she doesn’t, instead, she tips her head up to meet his lips halfway. He captures her lips in a slow, passionate kiss, all the words he should have said earlier pouring from his mouth. He cups her cheek, holding her in place as his lips smoothen over hers, welcoming the breath of air that she gives him instead of shuffling it away.

Bellamy wraps his hands around her waist, drawing her closer as her hands find the back of his neck. The snow falls down on them, coating their hair with snowflakes that Bellamy knows aren’t as beautiful as the ones she’s capable of drawing. Everything pales in comparison to Clarke, and if he has the chance to make him see her how he does, he’s going to work tirelessly to make it happen.

“Is that a yes?” Bellamy murmurs against her lips.

Clarke giggles, leaving him satisfied with one final peck as she nuzzles her nose against him. “It’s a yes.”

Bellamy grins, scooping her into his arms, and swinging her around. Clarke throws her head back in a laugh, just as Bellamy’s foot finds a sheet of ice. She yelps as he falls against the door, slumping against the wooden frame for support. The wind is nearly knocked out of him by the contact. Bellamy groans, but is silenced by another laugh and kiss from Clarke.

“Oh dear, Santa,” Clarke teases him, lips still on his. “What am I going to do with you?”

“That’s why you’re my helper,” Bellamy winks, placing her back down on the ground. “Can’t function without you around.”

A grin spreads across Clarke’s face, her fingers ghosting over his cheeks. “I love you, baby.”

Bellamy’s heart soars. He’s kind of grateful she said it first. He’s had enough confessions for today, and if this one ended in rejection, he’s not sure how he’d react. It would probably be the worst Christmas ever. Luckily, he’s received the best gift he possibly could this year: Clarke. Part of him has his sister to thank, but that’s not something he’s going to bother himself with at this very moment.

Bellamy leans in, stealing another kiss from her. “I love you, too, pretty girl.”

Clarke doesn’t let him detach himself from her, wrapping her arms back around his neck and holding him in place. Her mouth deepens against his, the cold tint to their lips doing nothing to numb the feeling of peace that settles deep within Bellamy’s chest.

A loud bang sounds from behind them. Both of their heads snap towards his car, only to see Octavia climbing out with a poignant huff. She stomps through the snow and up Clarke’s steps. Bellamy unwraps himself from Clarke’s embrace, sinking his hand in between them to intertwine their fingers instead. Octavia’s far too nosy for them to have put on a display like that, and he’s sure they’re both going to get an earful of it later.

Octavia stands before them, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. “Well. Are you going to invite us in, or am I going to have to see this circus from the car?”

Bellamy scrubs his hand over his face, but Clarke just laughs. He glares at his little sister, so incredibly sweet on this Christmas day. “Clarke wasn’t expecting us, O. We can’t invite ourselves in. And she probably has plans with family–”

“Not today,” Clarke wraps her other hand around his arm, and leans in to peck his cheek. “You know I can’t turn Santa away.”

Clarke leads the siblings into her house, the cool air subsiding as she closes the door behind them. Octavia kicks off her shoes, but a warning look from Bellamy and she places them nicely on the shoe rack.

“I just made hot chocolate,” Clarke says. “It’s in the kitchen. You can try some if you’d like–”

Octavia’s already running towards the kitchen before anyone can protest. Bellamy can’t even be embarrassed anymore, because Clarke seems to find it funny. She laughs watching Octavia go, and all Bellamy can think about is how he’s never had a Christmas feel so full until gazing at Clarke. He pulls her closer to him, smacking his lips against her cheek.

Clarke smiles warmly at him. “You should stay the night. I have some favors to make up.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows raise suggestively. He angles his body towards her, already backing her against the wooden door. “Why start tonight?”

Before their lips can even brush against one another, the patter of Octavia’s feet pounding against the floor sink into their ears. Bellamy pulls away instantly, trying to come off like he wasn’t about to fuck his five second girlfriend in the middle of the foyer with his sister in the next room. He closes his eyes, and with his hand in Clarke’s, breathes. _Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa. Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa. Sweaty, wrinkly, Santa._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!:)


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